


Not a Squirrel

by katikat



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Angst, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-04
Updated: 2010-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katikat/pseuds/katikat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Callen's hurt, Sam feels guilty. Fred makes everything better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Squirrel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Waldo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waldo/gifts).



"What is it?" Callen asked, his voice barely a whisper. Running his fingers through the soft, soft fur of the... thing Sam handed to him, he frowned slightly, his bruised, singed forehead wrinkling. "Is it a... Did you get me a stuffed toy, Sam?" he croaked in disbelief.

He could just imagine Sam grinning, all sprawled out in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to Callen's hospital bed. "Your observation skills are as sharp as ever, brother."

Callen snorted, wincing as his raw throat seized.

"Here," Sam whispered, the chair creaking as he leaned forward. The ice chips in the cup on the night stand rattled as he fished out a spoonful and brought it to Callen's chapped lips. "Slowly."

Callen opened his mouth and accepted the ice, almost groaning with relief. At first, his own helplessness had bothered him terribly, but after several days, this, among other things, was becoming routine. "Thank you," he rasped and meant it.

"Don't mention it," Sam said softly, his earlier cheerfulness gone.

Despite the stark white bandages on his eyes, Callen noticed the change in Sam's mood. It wouldn't do. A brooding Sam was a dangerous thing that often led to bloodshed.

"Is it an animal?" Callen asked, licking his lips and turning his head towards where Sam was sitting. It was a poor distraction but it was all he could think of.

"What?" Sam asked.

Callen tapped his fingers on the toy. "Seems like..." He ran his left hand up and down the long thing, his right broken in three places and immobilized. "A squirrel?"

Sam barked out a laugh. "No, it's a ferret."

Callen scrunched his forehead again, carefully because it hurt. "A ferret? Didn't know they made stuffed toys of those." Finding the end of the toy's tail, he tugged at it slightly. "No, must be a squirrel."

"It's not a squirrel."

"A mink then?"

"It's not a mink!" Sam said, slightly annoyed. "It's a ferret."

"But..."

"The guy in the store said it was a ferret," Sam interrupted him resolutely. "So it's a ferret."

Callen would have glared at Sam if he could. "What does the guy know? He works in a toy shop, not a pet store. I bet he wouldn't recognize a ferret if it bit him in the nose," he added under his breath.

Sam heaved a sigh. "G..."

*-*-*-*

"Mr. Hanna?"

Sam looked up from the ugly beige floor. "Hey, Hetty," he greeted her softly.

She was walking towards him down the hospital corridor, so tiny but with the strength and persistence of a pitbull. "What are you doing out here?" she asked. "I thought you'd taken up permanent residence by Mr. Callen's bedside."

Sam lowered his eyes to his tightly clenched fists. He opened his hands, then closed them again, calming himself down with the repetitive motion. "G's fever spiked again. They had to..." He fell silent, then took a deep breath. "He's doped up to his gills right now, they shot him full of painkillers, antibiotics and..."

"They kicked you out," Hetty finished for him when his voice trailed off. She nodded. "I think they wanted you to rest too. Any one of the team would gladly take your place by Mr. Callen's side. You know it."

He looked at her. "I know. I know but...!" He jumped to his feet and started pacing back and forth. "I can't rest! I can't go home! I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. Every time I close my eyes I see..." He stopped abruptly.

Hetty clasped her hands behind her back. "What do you see?" she prompted when he didn't continue.

Sam closed his eyes and let his head fall back. "I thought he was dead, Hetty. That this time, he was dead for sure." He took a deep breath, straightened and looked at her. "I stood there like an idiot, right there, in the hall with Pepe's bodyguard, we were just waiting like we were instructed to do and..." His voice became quiet, almost a whisper. "And then the bomb went off in Pepe's office. And I thought... in that moment, I thought 'That's it. G's dead.'"

Hetty pursed her lips. "But he wasn't."

Sam continued as if he didn't hear her. "Pepe's man, Juan, I think he thought we had something to do with the explosion but..." Sam shook his head again. "It was just dumb luck. Dumb luck and bad intel!" The last two words he almost spat out, just the thought of it made him so angry. "We stumbled right in the middle of a botched coup."

Hetty just stood there and watched him, letting him talk.

"The office was full of smoke and flames, and the fire alarm was blaring so loud I couldn't hear my own damn voice. The sprinklers were on and it was so hot inside." Sam's voice became soft again. "There was so much blood, Hetty. His... his face, his arms, all burned. And he couldn't breath... I'll never forget the sound, the wheezing sound his lungs made. It was terrifying." He looked down at his hands. "I got him out of there. He was screaming in pain but... the whole wing was collapsing, I had to get him out, I couldn't wait for help."

"You saved his life, Mr. Hanna," Hetty said gently.

He looked at her sharply. "He shouldn't have been hurt in the first place. I should have been inside with him."

"And who would have got the both of you out then?" she asked him reasonably. "You would've died a hero and I would have two dead agents on my hands now."

Sam glared at her but she met his eyes calmly.

"If you can think of one thing you could've done differently, one thing that would've changed the result and kept the both of you safe, I'm all ears, Mr. Hanna," she said. "But self-flagellation won't help - you or Mr. Callen."

"It shouldn't have happened, Hetty," Sam whispered shaking his head.

She nodded. "With that I wholeheartedly agree, Mr. Hanna. I already ordered Eric to triple-check the intel we were sent. Someone somewhere didn't do his job and we will find out who. And when we do find the person responsible for Mr. Callen's current state of health, I will hang them by their balls, that I promise you!"

Sam smirked, because that? He could actually believe. Hetty might be small - but so was Napoleon.

*-*-*-*

"G?"

Sam's voice pulled Callen out of the weird, fuzzy state the meds put him in. He hated feeling like that, disconnected and... floating. "They took Fred," he said in an earnest voice as he turned slightly towards Sam.

He could hear the puzzlement in Sam's voice when he asked, "Fred?"

"My squirrel."

Sam sighed. "It's a ferret and they didn't take it away. It's on the nightstand," he said and his chair creaked when he leaned forward to take the toy and put it on the pillow next to Callen's head.

Callen rubbed his face against the toy - even the scrapes on his cheek didn't hurt as much under the touch of the soft, soft fur. He hummed softly, remembering that there was something... something he wanted to ask. Oh! "Why a ferret?"

"Huh?"

"Why did you buy me a ferret?" It seemed really important to him... for some reason... some time ago.

He could hear Sam shrug. "Don't know. I liked its tail I guess."

Callen tried to frown then thought better of it. But if he could, he would be giving Sam the fish eye. "You sure it's not..."

"It's not a squirrel, G!" Sam interrupted in exasperation.

Callen hmpfed sulkily.

Silence settled over them and it was Sam who ended it finally. "I'm sorry, G," he said softly, his voice leaden with guilt.

"Hm?" Callen asked.

"The explosion. The fucking explosion, G!" Callen couldn't see Sam but it sounded as if he was hiding his face in his hands, kind of muffled. "I should have been there with you. I shouldn't have..."

"Sam!" Callen broke in sharply - or he tried to at least. But it felt as if there was mold growing merrily on his tongue. He hated being fuzzy! "Look, I'm... I'm way too... loopy right now to argue with you. Let's wait with this," he waved his hand, "till I don't feel like my head's gonna float off, okay?"

Sam barked out a laugh, but it sounded watery. "Okay."

"Okay." Callen nodded. "But! Let me say one thing - you saved my life back there. If it wasn't for you, I would be buried in the ocean together with a half of Pepe's mansion. You got me out and I couldn't ask for more. Okay?"

"But..." Sam objected.

Callen almost growled. "Sam! Meds! Loopy!"

"Fine, fine," Sam submitted and Callen could almost imagine him raising his hands in surrender.

Callen nodded and buried his nose in the toy's fur. "And Sam?" he said, his voice almost a whisper.

"Yes?" Sam answered just as softly.

"Thanks."

The End


End file.
